Veritas
by Elementary Magpie
Summary: Chris Brody is in Audrey's life. Duke and Nathan react. Post-203.


Disclaimer: All in good fun, no profit or rights claimed here.

Author's note: Originally written as speculation based on vague spoilers about Jason Priestley's character, the first section is updated to reflect what we now know about Chris Brody. Let's call it an AU now, post-203. Continued thanks to GageWhitney for the fabulous beta-ing of version 1.

**Veritas**

As the police cruiser pulls away from the pier, Duke picks up the overturned deck furniture, and Nathan concludes his phone call with the station, Audrey Parker says eagerly, "So, are we done here? And can I finish the paperwork tomorrow morning?"

"We're done," says Nathan, though he doesn't want to. "Have the paperwork on my desk first thing, Parker." Beaming, he turns to Chris Brody and says with heartfelt enthusiasm, "Thank you for your assistance with this case, Mr. Brody. The Haven Police Department is very grateful."

He sees Audrey roll her eyes at this for some reason, but she simply turns to Brody and takes his arm. "Great. Then, see you tomorrow," she says gaily. Brody ignores him, as of course he should.

Duke and Nathan stand side by side and watch, smiling and waving, as Brody kindly gives Audrey a hand down to the pier. They continue watching in admiring silence as he helps her laughing into the shiny black SUV and they drive away down the waterfront.

After the SUV has turned the corner out of sight, their smiles gradually fade away.

They stand for a moment longer.

Duke says, "Wait. _That's_ the guy she ends up sleeping with?"

"Apparently," says Nathan.

They stand a moment more.

"Glenlivet or Stoli?"

"Jack," says Nathan.

o o o

When the level in the bottle has dropped a quarter of the way down, Duke says, "It's not like she's a supermodel. I could get ten women more gorgeous over here, right now, without even paying."

"Right," says Nathan. They're on the deck of the Cape Rouge with the bottle on a low table between them, Duke leaning back in his favorite chair, Nathan sprawled in another.

Nathan holds his glass up to the setting sun, turning it back and forth to watch the golden light refract through the amber liquid. "Beautiful skin, though," he says, dreamily. "Peaches and rose, just shines when the light hits..."

"Yeah," reminisces Duke, smiling. "All the way down, too. Perfect."

Nathan's glass hits the table with a crack as he sits up. "How do _you_ know?"

Duke folds his arms behind his head with a smug grin. "Now, it just so happens that when that hailstorm knocked our newly arrived Agent Audrey Parker right off the pier, yours truly was here to fish her out. She was unconscious and freezing, and I couldn't just leave her in those soaking wet clothes, now could I?"

Nathan leans forward like he's about to attack. "You could have taken her to the hospital, you asshole. If you did anything to her while she couldn't-"

"Relax, Sir Galahad," says Duke. "I didn't touch her." He smirks, "beyond what was necessary, of course." His smile vanishes. "I don't do that, Nate."

"OK, then." Nathan leans back into his chair.

There's a very long silence, which Nathan refuses to break.

"Yes, she _is_ a natural blonde," says Duke.

"Asshole," says Nathan.

o o o

When the level in the bottle is halfway down, Duke says, "Who wants a tough girl, anyway? Where's the turn-on knowing you're in danger every time you go to bed?" He swings the bottle back onto the table in a wide dismissal.

Nathan picks it up and takes a swig. "Right. And rough hands. Gun calluses, who wants that?"

"You got it," Duke agrees. Then stares. "Wait, how do you know how Audrey's hands feel?"

Nathan leans toward Duke with a satisfied little smile. "I can feel her," he whispers conspiratorially. "I can feel Audrey's touch."

"And you were pissed off that I didn't tell you I was married?" Duke's voice is rising higher than he wants it to, but he can't stop. "You've been feeling up Audrey and never saw fit to mention it?"

Nathan slumps back into his chair, taking the bottle with him. "No, I'm- We're not. Doing anything."

"Nothing? Then how do you know?"

"She kissed my cheek, after Jess left. Just friends. And I could feel her."

"And then?" Duke prods, then looks hard at Nathan and begins to laugh. "Wait. Don't tell me that you didn't even tell her."

"It was too weird, at first. But she knows." Nathan cradles the bottle and looks up at the night sky. "She figured it out."

"She figured it out," says Duke, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Of course. And you still haven't gotten it done? Dude, what are you waiting for? It's not an invitation to the prom. Just ask."

"She doesn't see me that way."

"And you know this because…?"

"I told her I hoped she didn't feel too weird that she was the only one I could feel. She…she didn't know why that would be weird."

Duke digests this. "Oh man, that's harsh." He slumps back into his chair too.

"Yeah." Nathan raises the bottle to the stars. "To. Just. Friends." He tilts it back toward his mouth to drink. He misses slightly, and some of the liquor runs down the side of his cheek. He doesn't notice.

After a while, he says, like this is something he's been rehearsing in his head for days, "Just as well. Chief shouldn't fraternize with the officers. And I'm short a detective already. Can't lose her too."

"Listen to you, Mr. Responsible," mocks Duke.

"I _am_, Duke," says Nathan.

After another while, Duke asks, "So how's that working out for you, being the Big Chief at last?"

"The paperwork sucks," says Nathan.

o o o

When the level in the bottle is three-quarters of the way down, Duke reaches for it and misses, but Nathan hasn't quite yet let go of it and is able to make the save.

"Thanks, man," says Duke. He giggles. "I'm so drunk I can't even feel my own hand."

Nathan gives him a wide, sloppy grin. "Neither can I!" he chortles, and begins to laugh uproariously. Duke joins him.

They laugh until they cry.

o o o

The dawn wakes Duke by stabbing white-hot spikes through his eyelids into his tender eyes. He moans, covers his face with his arm, and bolts for the cabin. He hears Nathan knock the empty bottle off the table as he follows right behind.

Duke falls to his knees by the side of his bed and rests his throbbing head on the cover, deciding it's too much effort to climb onto the top. Nathan is leaning his hands on the dresser, head down, looking like he's only just managing to hold himself upright.

"If you tell me you can't feel this headache," says Duke, "I may have to kill you."

"I can't feel headaches," says Nathan. "But my stomach…" He turns pale, blurts "Where-?"

Duke points, and Nathan dashes for the head. Almost immediately, Duke hears Nathan being violently sick. He buries his face in the cover and tries not to let the sound make him sick too.

There's running water, then Nathan comes back through the door, looking unfairly more alert, but tired. He slides down the wall, sitting with his back against it. Duke is wondering through the drum chorus in his head if there's any amount of money he could pay Nathan that would convince him to make coffee right now when a horrible, piercingly loud ringing fills the room. They both jump. Then Nathan shakes his head, shifts his weight, and pulls a cell phone out of his back pocket. "Wournos," he says.

While Nathan talks, Duke slowly levers himself to his feet, feeling like the morning after Helena without all of the fun before and guessing that he's going to be making his own coffee after all. When Nathan turns off the phone and pulls himself to his feet as well, Duke asks, "Duty calls?"

"Yes," says Nathan. "Duke, are you still drunk?"

"Does it matter?" Duke wonders.

"If you're still drunk, then so am I, and I probably shouldn't drive."

"Oh." Duke holds out a hand and examines it for trembling, waves it back and forth to feel his fingers, takes a step or two to confirm his feet. "No, I'm good."

"OK then," says Nathan, and turns for the door.

"You might want to take a minute there, Chief," says Duke. "You look like shit. And smell like a distillery."

Nathan looks abashed, sniffs at his shoulder, and makes a face. "Damn."

"The shower's all yours," says Duke, waving vaguely and beginning to make his way toward the galley. "Towels in the hatch under the sink. Shirts in the chest by the bed."

Ten minutes later, Duke is sitting on the deck with two cups of coffee and his strongest sunglasses when Nathan emerges, blinking in the glare but looking more or less back-to-Wournos. Duke is pleased to note that his shirt hangs just a little too loosely on Nathan's shoulders.

He hands him one of the cups, and Nathan chugs it all down without pausing.

"Thanks," says Nathan. They both know he's not talking about the coffee.

Duke follows Nathan to the side of the boat. "Don't think it's going to make a difference, what you said last night," he says, looking out over the harbor. "No way I'm standing nobly aside for anyone."

Nathan looks down the waterfront toward his truck, one corner of his mouth turning up in what might be a smile. "I didn't think you would," he says, and steps down onto the pier.

- end -


End file.
